As I understand it, the tradition of observing the Passover Seder is one that is guided by the questions of children. In this way, the story gets told, and one can assume, because it is the children who ask the questions, that the story also gets remembered better. It's a wonderful tradition, in that it honours the children as ones who are always welcome at the table, and it gives them an important - one could say vital - part to play in the drama that unfolds. It is a deeply rich meal not in proteins and nutrients for the body (although it could also be that) but in proteins and nutrients for the soul. The tradition is important and retelling it helps to build the tradition generation after generation after generation.
And so we gathered this evening for our version of the Seder - the meal of Passover, complete with macaroni and cheese playing the role of manna, but also with the traditional symbolic elements. It was a wonderfully rich evening not only because of the food shared but because of the conversation shared.
It seems entirely appropriate on a night when the questions of children (scripted though they might be) are the ones that lead us through the tradition, that my night should have been enriched with a most penetrating question from one of our young congregation members. She watched the drama that the youth group portrayed - telling in summary form the story of Moses - how he came to be in Pharaoh's family circle, and then how he defended his people, ran away and then heard the call to lead his people, the Hebrew people out of Egypt. The drama ended with a depiction of the various plagues ending with the most dreadful of them all, the one that killed all the Egyptian firstborn male children, but "passed over" every Hebrew household that had a smear of blood from the sacrificed goat or lamb on its doorposts.
My young questioner was obviously listening and watching very intently. I know this because of the questions she asked. What if a family of Egyptians had not enslaved the Hebrew people? Why would God kill the Egyptian children even if they had done nothing wrong? Wow, it's the kind of question that leaves you grasping for the right words to say. And of course she asked it within earshot of her parents, who were also listening to how I would answer that one. We talked about God's love for everyone - that was the basis for the injustice she perceived in the story already, so that was not a hard sell. We talked about how different people in the story would understand it differently. The Hebrew people certainly understood that God was on their side. But God doesn't take sides! How would the Egyptian people understand the story? How could they understand an impartial God if their oldest son was killed even though they had done nothing wrong? In the end, I felt reasonably good about what I said - despite some fumbling thoughts as I tried to answer the questions - for I said that I did not have all the answers, but I asked my young conversation partner to never stop asking those kinds of questions, for it is those kinds of questions that drive us more deeply into our faith, it is those kinds of questions which lead us to work more earnestly for justice, it is those kinds of questions which help us to understand God differently. I asked her if she thought that God every cries. I asked her if she thought that God might be crying over what happened to the Egyptian children. She said that those kinds of questions are the kind of questions that make her head hurt, but I think she accepted my suggestion that she should keep on asking them.Yellowknife,
April 1, 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment